Dear Matt and Simona, Last week I wrote these words:

“Your giving of yourselves to each other before God is unleashing changes in the fundamental essence of who you are… how you live… what you do… and what you don’t do.”

I reminded you that “Paul called it a “profound mystery”, this loving and leading, this two becoming one, this dance to the sometimes discordant music of romance and real life.”

And then I paused… because our house feels so empty without you.

Our Christmas tree is too perfect. Not one discordant peep of your crazy Santa ornament collection to offset all that shiny and silver.

Did I really dream about this day-of-the-perfect-tree?

Because I am learning now that just as sometimes the steps to this dance are confusing for the two of you, it can be confusing to those who love you too.

This idea of your not-the-same-as-you-were-ness is unsettling…

to the parents who taught you to walk…

to the sisters and brothers who ran and played and prayed and poured into you…

to the friends who learned to lean on you before you became we.

The writer of Hebrews wrote that “Marriage should be honored by all…” but in real life the mystery of how can lead to mistakes.

No one has this figured out perfectly.

So… since I am writing these letters to help the two of you live wisely and well in this new thing called marriage, I am asking myself some questions. Because… it’s one thing to believe all these truths about oneness in theory… and quite another to know it in the space that is left empty by reality.

How do the two-of-you-who-are-now-one handle all the people who love you and want the two of you to remain two… and the same?

How does this new entity that is MatthewSimonaComer (MSC) open the Front Door and welcome all these people into the entryway of your home? And how can you do this welcoming without allowing anyone to hinder you from what you are becoming?

And I’ve mulled and I’ve pondered and I’ve made a list lest I mess this one up by inserting myself into the equation. Because I am one of those people; missing those Santas on my tree, knowing those years are over… and not yet fully seeing what will be.

Ways to Be Wisely Welcoming:

1.  Establish the new you.

You are a new family, just the two of you, a whole new line of generations. When your family tree is drawn you will sit at the top, linked to each other. You will be connected to your families with a broken line.

Be that. Be MatthewSimonaComer. Don’t apologize or pretend about this new reality. Be together. Talk together. Sit together. Establish in every one’s minds this new entity.

2.  Chart a new way.

Now is the time to start some of your own traditions. Some will involve family and some won’t. That is for the two of you to decide together. You get this chance to forge your own new ways of doing things. Have fun with it!

3.  Teach and train.

One of the wisest relational bits of advice I have ever heard came from your son-in-law, Steve. He puts it this way:

You teach people how to treat you.

In other words, you dare not be a passive pushover. It is your job to lovingly teach and train your family to see you as this newly defined entity.

4.  Be patient with the process.

To resist change is an instinctual human defense mechanism. It may take time for some of your people to adapt themselves to this new you. They didn’t expect it. They just thought you were adding someone to their fun. They had no clue that everything changed the day you said, “I do”.

5.  Tell them why.

Otherwise you run the risk of deeply hurting and inadvertently alienating people who love you.

Explain that you’re still figuring it out, that you love them, that they are important to you, that you need time to readjust your rhythm while you learn to walk as one.

Make sure they know—and that you know they know— that you are not rejecting your heritage. Instead, you are building on the foundation your family painstakingly laid for you.

6.  Reach out.

In order to make all this easier to swallow, you’ll need to be the ones to initiate relationship with family. It is up to you to reach out.

The people who have loved you the longest are waiting for permission to step into your new lives as MSC.  This oneness can be uncomfortable for those who don’t know their place.

And one last thing to remember…

Family Is Forever

Many, if not most, of your friends will eventually fade out of your everyday life. They’ll move or you will. Their values won’t fit well with yours. You’ll slowly grow apart. You’ll change jobs, move, go to different churches, develop new interests.

But your family… they are in your life right up until they go to be with Jesus. They are the ones who will be there for you when the chips are down, when you make mistakes. They are not only your past… they are your future.

Remember that, Matt and Simo. As uncomfortable as the growing up is, as hard as you may have to struggle to get them to see you as no longer two but one, as much as they might drive you nutty— these are the ones who will love you no matter what.

Merry Christmas dear ones.

From my heart,

Mom

P.S. To those who are reading: 

Can you tell us how you’ve learned to welcome family into your marriage without losing your new identity as two-become-one? What does that look like?

Disclaimer:  I know that there are families that become so toxic that being close can threaten the health of your marriage. That’s not what I am talking about here. If that is our reality, I urge you to seek godly counsel as to your best course of action. Don’t wait until your family’s dysfunction destroys your love.

(image by Hillary Kupish)

Dear ones, I woke up this morning wanting to go back to sleep.

Ever have those days?

It’s a rare feeling for me, an inveterate morning person. As I lay there wondering what in the world was wrong with me, I sensed that whispered truth from the One who knows me better than I know myself.

You’re afraid.

I knew His words to be true, though it hadn’t dawned on me all through the restless night. And hearing Him, I felt that instant relief I’ve come to recognize as my soul’s visceral response to His words to me.

The fear had to do with my plans for the morning. After months of writing and years of living my story, I’ve finally got it all on paper. For the past several weeks an editor has been waving her magic wand over my words, asking me questions, filling in gaps, challenging my assertions, making sure I am writing true and getting the story right.

Waiting for me on my desk is the final edit.

And I am scared. Nervous. Worried.

Feeling once again those all too familiar feelings of not-enoughness.

The inadequacy that has haunted every step of writing my story kept me bound to my bed this morning instead of bouncing out to my writing cabin with joy. 

I pulled myself out from under the covers, made a pot of tea, and sat by the fire Phil had made, eyeing my cabin out the window with dread.

Since my Bible was waiting by the backdoor instead of in its usual place by my chair in my cabin under the trees, I settled in to the safety of this place where I never write.

I sat in Phil’s chair. Sipped tea, and waited.

Silence.

No words, more dread.

I’ll just spend this day wrapping. I need to wrap, after all. I’ll get to my book later.

Relief… sort of.

Opening my Bible on my way to where I left off the day before, my eyes caught these title words: Jesus Forgives and Heals a Paralyzed Man.

My heart froze.

That’s me! I am that paralyzed man. Paralyzed by fear, haunted by feelings of inadequacy, knowing deep down that I’m not good enough, smart enough, responsible enough. Convinced that I have failed again to meet my own standards of perfection. I am hog-tied by that knowing that I am not as good as I wish I was— at anything.

I read the story. No, that’s not right...

I inhaled the story.

It’s that story I have been drawn to over and over again. I’ve taught on it, written about it, researched words and deciphered my way through dusty tombs written by men with strings of letters after their names.

But this time I did what I’ve been doing a lot lately; I followed the rabbit trails of references the translators leave behind.

I wanted to know more of what Jesus meant when he said to the man: “Take heart, son, your sins are forgiven.” (Mt. 9v2 NIV)

The trail led me first to these words: “…in this world you will have trouble but take heart! I have overcome the world.” (John 16v33 NIV)

Take heart. I have overcome your trouble.

Ah… peace chasing fear away.

His peace. Given as a gift through His words…

His words to me, the fear prone daughter of Royalty. The one who forgets that she’s not alone- never alone.

This child of His, whose soul struggles to get it right. To believe. To fully entrust every bit of me to Him.

But it gets better, this listening.

The reference trail led me, strangely enough, to Romans:

“… in all these things you are more than conquerors through Him who loved us.” (Romans 8v37 NIV)

Oh yes! I forgot! Again…

IT’S NOT ABOUT ME!

That’s why I’m afraid, because I’m stuck back in that thinking, that wrong thinking, that my story is about me.

Sure, it’s my story… but the truth is, my story is all about Him— what He did, how He speaks, how He is teaching me to hear.

And, my dear anxious ones…

Your story isn’t about you either.

Your story is all about Jesus engulfing you in His great love and hiding you there.

Your story, and mine too, is about how in all things…

“God works for the good of those who love Him,

who have been called according to His purpose.

For those God foreknew He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son…

and those He predestined He also called;

those He called,

He also justified;

those He justified,

He also glorified.”

(Romans 8v28,29 NIV)

He also glorified. 

Once again that heart-halting sense of His speaking to me, through me, for me. 

What? Lord, isn’t it me who is supposed to be glorifying You?

Yes. That’s right.

What am I missing? Why is my heart beating wildly at this thought? Could it be true that You want to glorify me? That’s crazy!

And I’m laughing now because I know it’s true! I feel His smile, that chuckle of the One who so persistently leads us into truth.

And here it is, all unwrapped:

When I tuck myself into Him. Purposely listening, yielding, obeying, wanting His truth to be the truest truth— He actually glorifies me.

Gosh.

In Him I am better than I am.

In Him I am freed to be who He designed me to be.

In Him I am adequate.

Paul’s words in I Corinthians break through to add octane to my wonder:

“Not that we are adequate in ourselves to consider anything as coming from ourselves, but our adequacy is from God.”

(I Corinthians 3v4,5 NASB)

Which means that, Lord…

My adequacy is from You.

Smile. Joy. Wonder. A gift so lavish I cannot get over it.

And then I scurried to write it all down for you, my dear ones. To remind you again, all of you who are haunted by fears, hunted by an enemy whose fiery arrows (“flaming missiles” in the NASB) sting and wound and threaten to relegate you to the injured list, that…

Hid in Him you are enough!

That, in fact, He wants to use you to tell His story to a whole world that doesn’t yet know that it is Him— Jesus— they are craving as they spend their moments and their money accumulating.

This is what I mean when I talk about listening to God.

When I say that He speaks in the silence. He does! He really does!

From one who is learning to hear and wanting you to know,

Diane

P.S. Read it for yourself in Matthew 9v1-8, then again in Mark 2v3-12 and then get the details in Luke 5v18-26.

Dear Matthew and Simona, This is your first Christmas.

Not ever— but together… as two who are now one.

All the other Christmases you’ve experienced have been about Matthew. Or Simona. Or Matthew trying to catch Simona… and Simona (in the words of my less-than-subtle mother) “running just fast enough to get caught”!

This Christmas is not about any of that. The wedding is planned and accomplished, photographed and photo-shopped. The honeymoon is over and done with remnants of beautiful memories tucked away in boxes.

This Christmas is your first as ONE.

It is about the ONE you are becoming; the forging of Matt into Simo and Simo into Matt. This Christmas is about becoming MatthewSimonaComer. MSC.

How can it be that one ceremony, a few words of promise, a signature on a document, can change everything? Can change you?

Can change Christmas?

When each of you chose to entwine your life with the other, it was more than merely an act of commitment—those vows you spoke were a decision.

Though you could not have fully understood all the implications of that decision, the dawning of what it meant is now changing the way you do life.

Your giving of yourselves to each other before God is unleashing changes in the fundamental essence of…

who you are…

how you live…

what you do…

and…

what you don’t do.

This ideal of two becoming one has chafed for centuries. It’s never been easy. In fact many take issue with this idea. Because, let’s be honest, this two melding into one is…

hard…

humbling…

inconvenient and uncomfortable.

Two becoming one goes against the grain of all that independence and individuality we fight for so furiously.

Two becoming one is fraught with giving up… giving in… working it out, choosing.

Jesus said it succinctly:

“Haven’t you read… at the beginning the Creator made them male and female, and said,

‘For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh?’

So they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.”

Matthew 19:4-6

The joining of Matthew to Simona and Simona to Matthew is both a mission and a mystery.

Somehow, in some way we can only see in snatches, the blending of the two of you into ONE hints at the bending of God come down— His mission, first glimpsed by Mary with a babe in her arms.

This blending of the two of you mirrors God’s love-fueled determination to set His bride free of all that came between His heart and ours.

And more…

This forming of something beautiful in the blending of two into one hints at the mystery of a God who created us with the capacity, the need, to live in Him.

To be ONE with Him.

Paul called it a “profound mystery”, this loving and leading, this two becoming one, this dance to the sometimes discordant music of romance and real life.

My dear son and daughter, may I just ask you to take a moment and think about that? To ponder that profound mystery… to allow yourselves to see who you are becoming?

And more:

Will you give yourselves grace when this forging is harder than you’d thought it would be?

This losing of yourselves to find who you really are— together— is never easy; it takes time, it takes talking, it takes thinking through.

And it takes forever.

Loving you both, and loving the emerging of who you are,

Merry-almost-Christmas!

From my heart,

Mom

P.S. To those who are listening.. Is it worth it? This work of giving up and giving in and giving to each other? Are you learning to be who you really are in the midst of becoming One? Can you tell us about it? Your stories make truth real.

Christmas at our house is not simple. Or quiet.

A Comer Christmas is loud… everyone talking at once because there’s so much to say and so many questions to ask and so much we didn’t know.

A Comer Christmas is chaotic… Moses making the rounds of laps, Duke wrestling with the cousins, Scarlet telling everyone they’re “gorgeous”, Sunday grinning big, Jude commanding the troupes.

A Comer Christmas is presents, piles and piles of presents.

And I know that’s not in vogue right now. I read about the stoics who don’t do gifts, the unselfish who write checks to charities instead, the ones who give it all away in order to give the season more fully to Jesus.

And I love that, it’s beautiful, inspiring, grand— but that’s not our story.

Instead we have lists flying over cyber world, big brown trucks making deliveries, secret texts with ideas and links and let-me-check-with-so-and-so’s.

And I know right now that my daughters are talking about what to get who and where to get it. My sons are planning their morning-of-Christmas-eve coffee klatch. Phil is managing lists and package arrivals and airport runs and who goes to whose house when.

On this Christmas like every other there will be tears, and meltdowns, raised eyebrows, moodiness, teasing… moments.

Our day will be imperfect and messy.

But in the midst of it all there will be a family full of people who are fully present, passionate about each other, building a heritage for each.

And me? I’ll be savoring every moment. Wishing the whole world could have what I have— a family in love with the Savior… and each other.

I’ll sit in my corner of the sofa,

…wishing every mother could know that all she’s doing now will give her this someday. Not ideal or idyllic, but beautiful and good.

… wishing I could tell her that she won’t be sorry she gave up on order and stillness and perfection and gave in to messy, sticky, crazy love.

… wishing she could see that she won’t be sorry she worked so hard or stayed so present or forgave again or decided to decide.

All day, in the midst of my own family’s way of doing Christmas, I’ll be wishing that every mother could know that all those years of busy will come down to one day of enough.

From a heart bursting,

Diane

(image by Maria Lamb)

 Decide

Dear Matt and Simona,

We’ve been talking about the Front Door, this vision of what kind of life you want to build together. But I think that rather than dish out more advice, I want to tell you a story.

This is a story being lived out right now, one that belongs to both you and me. It is a story of a love that has stretched and grown, endured and triumphed, changed and adapted until it’s ending beckons like a treasure of gold at the end of the rainbow.

My mom and dad— your grandparents— are writing the very last pages of a story that has stretched past 64 years. Papa suffers a terminal illness. Grandma is frail. Yet as we visited them this week, we saw a continuous cycle of one living for the other.

Mom is watching over Dad, feeding him, helping him, fetching and carrying and lending her strength for the daily challenge of living. Much the same as she’s been doing since she first said I do as an 18 year old girl-bride.

And Dad, whose days are a continual struggle for breath, is determined to get Mom settled and set up so that when he goes she’ll not have to worry.  Rather than lie still and breath easier, he’s duking it out on the phone with Medicare and insurance and all the complicities mom would not be able to handle on her own. He’s organizing the celebration of life he knows she won’t want to plan once he’s gone. Moving from his beloved mountains so that she’ll be nearer her daughter and closer to the assistance she’ll need.

Their's, we both know is a rare sort of story.  What I’ve been asking myself all week is why?

Why are they still married, still happy, dreading their coming separation, grieving each other’s suffering, using their remaining days seeking the well-being of the other? 

And somehow, I believe, if we can grasp the why, all the rest of us might have a fighting chance to share in their story of a love that lasts a lifetime.

For the life of me I can’t come up with a list. Only one word runs through my mine as I watch and listen and ask God for the secrets these two seem to know without words.

Decide.

That’s what your grandparents are doing, Matt. Every day they decide. Then the next day they decide again. And again.

For 64 years they have decided.

When things go wrong and life gets stressful… they decide. To not blame the other, to get a grip on their anger, to be nicer than they feel.

When one messes up and the other feels the effects of that mess up… they decide. To forgive, to give grace, to find the strength to un-remember the offense.

When Papa’s vision for a secure financial future meant mom had to mend her underwear because his strict budget wouldn’t allow the extra expense of buying pretty things… she decided: To turn the whole story into a family joke and bring it back to his wise financial choices that set them up for the retirement of their dreams— and as much new underwear as she could ever want.

When my mom’s passion for history and love of creating beauty led her to start a business restoring and selling antiques… Papa decided: To put his skills to work for her vision that had nothing to do with his interests, and to assign himself the less than lucrative position of COR (Chief of Repairs).

And now, this week, I help them dismantle the house that has held their best dreams, the one that perches on a ridge overlooking the Sierras.

Why?

Because they decide: To do what’s best for the other. To make the best of the worst. To let go of what will not go with them so they can hold on tight to each other just a little longer.

And so, my dear Matt and Simona, if you want to write a similar story…

Decide to decide.

Decide to be kind when you feel a surge of nasty.

Decide to be affectionate when you feel like pushing away.

Decide to be friendly when doing so feels fake.

Decide to pinch pennies, to give thanks, to be gracious, to let the hurt heal without drama, to go places and do things you don’t particularly enjoy…

Decide.

And if you do, maybe someday your daughter will do what I’ve been doing all week: revel in your love for each other, drinking it in like a hummingbird to nectar, watching and learning and deciding…. to decide.

From my heart,

Mom

P.S.  For those who are listening: What do you need to decide about today? Can you leave us your words to help us direct our thoughts?

(image by Hillary Kupish)

Marriage To A Leader

Dear Simona,

You married a man with vision. So did I. They are a rare breed, these men who dream big and push hard to achieve.

There are many men who dream… and talk… and wish. But just a few who pour every ounce of who they are into pursuing excellence, into gaining the goal. And fewer still who first corral all that drive to kneel at the foot of the Cross and give it up to God.

Matt is one of those. And you, my dear Simona, are called alongside him to help. You are what the Hebrew Bible calls, his ezer, translated weakly into English as “a helper suitable for him”.[1]

That makes is your role in Matt’s life a mirror of God’s role in our lives: “The LORD is with me: He is my ezer.”[2] Just as God chooses to come alongside and help each of us, He asks you to come alongside and help your husband.

To quote Matt’s big brother:

“A helper is an equal— Genesis uses the adjective suitable, meaning “on the same level”…A helper is not an employee— someone who works for you… it’s one who comes alongside as a partner in a project, as an ally in a war.” (Loveology pg. 61)

An ally in a war: you are his right hand man— not so he can bark orders at you, but so he can consult strategy.

He needs you: your wisdom, your help, your presence. He needs your innate female instinct for articulating the vision you both share.

But here’s the truth: Being married to a man with big vision and the drive to make it happen is an all-consuming assignment.

In his quest to conquer, you will play a vital role. You cannot afford to sit passively on the sidelines and watch. Because being the ezer of a warrior, a visionary, an achiever, requires more of a woman if your relationship is going to thrive.

And I’ve seen what happens when a woman, a wife, doesn’t understand this. I’ve seen the confusion, heard the plaintive cry of loneliness, the words of frustration that leak out, unbidden. I’ve watched as good men and good women draw away from each other— not because they want to, or planned to, but because they don’t know. They don’t get it, don’t see the paradigm that is vastly different from that shown on silly sitcoms.

Being married to a leader can be lonely… I have spent innumerable nights alone while Phil led meetings and band practices, or flew off into the wild blue yonder while I stayed home to hold our lives together here.

Being married to a leader can be frustrating… When he gets it wrong and gets criticized and you know his heart… and you grow claws in your instinct to protect him.

Being married to a leader can be isolating… when you know things no one else does and you cannot tell anyone. Because being trustworthy is more important than telling all… and because if you open your mouth someone else’s story, whose story is not yours to tell, may come bursting out.

But mostly, my dear daughter, being married to a leader can be the most satisfying life imaginable.

You are invited to play a role in a story that is bigger than you would ever experience on your own. And you get to do it by his side because you believe in him and because his dream becomes your own.

But you are not a passive participant in this story. You dare not be. Instead, you face choices, three that I can see. And I want you to think long and hard about which you will choose.

Three choices faced by every woman married to a leader:

1.    You can make the dreams too hard for him… and he’ll forever resent you for squelching his drive to succeed.

I have seen this happen too often. When a woman cannot get behind her husband’s vision— often times due to his inability to express it well, and she doesn’t understand, or worse, misunderstands and takes his drive as a personal assault on her own self.

Resentment flairs. He withdraws. She complains. He either gives up his dream to make her happy, or forges ahead and wears her dissatisfaction like a disgruntled bear.

2.    You can pursue your own dreams to the exclusion of his… and you’ll live separate lives.

Don’t get me wrong—I am a dreamer of dreams. I have more ideas I want to pursue and achieve than any woman could possible do in a lifetime. And more, I believe these dreams are straight from the heart of God. But I also believe that if I want to stay one with my husband, if I want to be an integral part of his life, I must choose to pour myself into his conquerings. To choose to play the role of his ezer, his chief of staff, his ever present consultant— and that’s a whole lot more than simply and passively “being supportive”.

I don’t want to live my life separate from my leader-husband. I want to be with him and for him and into what fuels him.

And I want him to know it.

3.   You can choose to hold your dreams loosely while throwing yourself into helping his happen… and he will honor you as his partner in the vision you share.

I believe that God has this wonderful way of weaving our dreams and vision into something altogether new and different and uniquely ours together. Your husband’s vision becomes yours and then gets altered and revised because your dreams and gifts come into play, making a whole new way neither of you saw at the start.

This is the way I want, the ezer way. Not easier, not by a long shot. But, I dare to believe, the way God intended on that day when He designed Adam’s solution to that not-good aloneness.

Here, at the start of your story, you have this rare and unique opportunity to set the tone for how you will adventure together.

Will you commit your drive and smarts and wisdom and creativity into making up for those lacks in your husband’s life?

Will you weave your dreams with his, joining him on the quest that is just beginning?

From a heart full of confidence in the One who crafted you beautifully,

Mom

P.S. This letter is intended specifically for a woman who is married to a leader—a leader of multitudes or just a few; a leader of thoughts, of design, of creativity, of business… that unique breed of men who cannot help but lead. Are you married to such a one? Can you tell us how that makes your role unique? Challenging? Good?

---

[1] Genesis 2:18 NIV

[2] Psalm 118:7

(image by Hillary Kupish)

“There is a time for everything…”

Ecclesiastes 3:1

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago…I was a mother of little ones.

John Mark—my wild one, incapable of sitting still, coming out of his skin with ideas and interests. He was born to challenge boundaries, encouraged to question, destined to a story of vision and conquest.

Next came Rebekah, overflowing with joy, loving people, born with an insatiable need to fix, to help. She inhaled books, studied anything and everything that interested her inquisitive mind, and met injustice with the ferocity of a warrior-woman.

A boy and a girl, both so high on the intensity scale, they filled this mama’s days with wonder… and weariness.

Then came Elizabeth. Soft and gentle. Slow and easy. Compliant. She turned all that familiar intensity inward, filling up with wisdom, dishing out prophet-like insight. An easy infant, an easy toddler, even an easy teenager— easy on everyone but herself.

We waited a while for Matthew, our delight-filled, drama-prone, willful one— who came out of the womb looking for a party and filled our home with his friends.

All I’d ever wanted was to be a mother, to surround myself with little people, to create a legacy. But somehow I thought I could do all that and still keep my house always tidy, my chore list crossed off, myself looking like a model, my marriage conflict free…

And I couldn’t.

Not even close.

And there’s a whole story I can’t tell right here, the one I’m working to tuck into a book for next fall— about my flailing struggle and miserable failure to measure up to my own impossible dreams of how life ought to be.

On this wind-swept No-Rush-November day, all I can say is this:

For every worn out mother who wonders what happened to her dreams, hold tight, hang on. There is time for everything. Between your time to be born and your time to die, you will have more than enough time to achieve, to make your mark, to create beauty, to excel.

But what you are doing now, in the midst of the messes and the piles and the impossibly long lists of things that must be done— this is your finest hour.

When you hold that infant to your breast… you are nourishing a human who will grow up knowing deep down that she matters, that he is loved, and not just by you, but by God Himself. When you hold those babies close, their hearts sinc to yours… and to His.

Because God says:

Can a mother forget her nursing child? Can she feel no love for a child she has borne? But even if that were possible, I would not forget you! Is 49v15 nlt

When you hold that little one’s hand because he is afraid, because he needs you, because holding onto your hand keeps him safe… you are giving him the deep down security that can only come to one who puts his whole trust in God.

Because God says:

See, I have written your name on My hand. Is. 49v16 nlt

When you do the hard work of discipline— again— and you think that’s all you are, just one big-mean-mama, you are planting within that child the ability to choose. To choose how to act, who to follow, what to do when life gets hard. You are giving him the gift of soul strength, of self-control. Of life.

Because God says:

No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it. Hebrews 10v11 niv

For just a few short years of your life, you are assigned to fill in for God. You guide with His hands, you speak His words, you guide every child-paced step towards the path that leads to life. You open the door to introduce your child to a Father who welcomes them in.

This, dear mothers who need to know, is…

The time to love:

To embrace sweaty boys while they still hug long and close.

To plant seeds of future dreams by imagining with them what could be.

To laugh over silly jokes with no punch line.

To dance to tunes about building snowmans and being free.

To read stories and give piggyback rides and fix lunch and rummage in the messy closet for socks that match.

This, my dear mothers, is the time to find beauty in the faces right in front of you.

Right now, during these fleeting days of No Rush November, will you redefine your definition of perfection?

Will you choose to live at peace with the imperfection of your body, your abilities, your to-do list?

Will you decide to see that achieving is not the same as doing?

That, indeed you are— in these sometimes disorderly, discouraging, disheartening years— achieving more than you could possibly hope to achieve in all the rest of the days of your life?

May He give you eyes to see.

From my heart,

Diane

P.S. if your answer is YES! will you write it in the comments?

(Image by Abi Porter)

We spent our honeymoon holed up in a cozy inn on the edge of the sea. Every day we walked the winding road that led higher into the hills, rambling past the stone house we dreamed of owning someday, along the stream framed by lush ferns, to a bend in the road where we could overlook the whole world. And there we stood, breathing in the greatness.

Then we’d ramble back, filled full from that sight of something bigger than ourselves. As we walked, we talked and listened and discovered and dreamed— about the future, about what might be, about what we might do and where we might go.

In that suspended part of our lives we didn’t stress or strive or write lists or assign tasks. We just walked… and hoped.

And as we tarried in that two week time between the rush of the wedding and the press of what our lives would soon be, we puzzled over a sign tucked into the flowers on the fence:

Restabitfortisarareplacetorestat

The owners of the inn wouldn’t tell us what it meant, just laughed when we asked and told us we’d figure it out. They seemed so sure.

And so we’d cock our heads and sound it out and shrug our shoulders in that way of two lovers on their way to more loving. Probably Latin… or Gaelic… or just a pretty piece of nonsense put together to add a bit of quaint.

Until the day we saw, with opened eyes, that by adding spaces and maybe a comma or two, the mystery was made clear:

Rest a bit, for tis a rare place to rest at.

That refuge overlooking crashing waves and sparkling ocean was indeed a rare place to rest at. A place to love and discover and receive… and now a place to remember— how to rest.

Because real rest is rare.

And being a woman at rest is rarer still.

And I’m asking myself… and asking my Father, how to be this woman at rest. And here is what I’m hearing…

That rest— soul deep rest— is found only in God.

Not in a pretty place, not in an expensive vacation, not even in having all my hopes and dreams realized… but just in Him. Because He is the only safe place. He is the always-faithful One. Only in Him am I really, truly happy and at rest.

But how do I find that place? How do I reach that spot where I can see the whole world at my feet and open my arms to full, unhindered joy?

Here, my dear girls, is the beginning of a list. And I’m hoping you’ll add to it so that we can learn and grow to be women marked by restfulness. But for now—

Four Ways Into Rest

1.  Rest yourself in God

The most rest-filled moment in any day is that set aside time when it’s just me and God. My Bible is open, I’ve a notebook just in case, maybe a book filled with wisdom and insight… and I’m alone with Him.

This is where worry turns to waiting. This is where all that troubles me is laid at His feet. This is where I am at rest.

2.  Set aside a place to rest

While I was writing these words, my sistas were texting messages to each other early in the morning. I think it was Jules who sent the first picture. It was her spot in the window where she waits to hear God, with her Bible wide open and her heart surrendered. Then each of us started texting pictures of the place we find that rest from all that harries us.

Because place is important. Whether it’s a favorite chair or a corner by the window, fill your place with beauty. Make it a place where your soul responds to God.

 3.  Find people who bring you back to rest

In an old book, written to a woman whose life was filled with the unrest that comes from living among people who were conflict driven and unkind, I read these words:

“Do not hesitate to solace yourself with the society of some congenial, pious friends.”

My “congenial, pious” friends bring me back again and again to that place of soul rest. They remind me of what I know and need to hear over and over. And they do it in a way that is congenial. Those are friendships worth cultivating.

 4.  Ramble in a restful place

Getting outside into the place God fills with His created beauty is the surest way to rest that I know. Breathing deeply, opening my eyes to beauty, feeling the rain on my face or the sun on my back, while I ramble in the woods by my house… I hear Him there. To go a day or a week or any length of time without getting outside to purposely pursue His created world makes my soul stressed and leaves my thinking kinked into uselessness.

We need the garden He placed us in.

In a few weeks Phil and I will be returning to that little inn on the edge of the sea where we started our story.  We’ll rest there, and remember. We’ll amble along the road above and pass the stone cottage, the hidden stream, the oaks hung with moss, and we’ll come to that place where all the world lies under our feet.

We’ll breath deep and dream…

From a heart still learning to rest a bit,

Diane

P.S. Okay, can you add to my list? How do you find that place in your soul where rest fills you full of the Father? We learn from each other, “congenial friends”…

(image by Bethany Small)

Vision

“Trust in the LORD and do good; dwell in the land and cultivate faithfulness.

Delight yourself in the LORD; and He will give you the desires of your heart.

Commit your way to the LORD, trust in Him, and He will do it.”

Psalm 37:3-5 NASB

Dear Matt and Simona,

Welcome back! Your honeymoon is now a memory; an oasis to look back at in the midst of the daily crush of bills and schedules and errands and work and that seemingly fruitless fight to keep up.

And so today I want to talk to the two of you about the way into this life you are forging. About the front door and the welcome and the vision of what lies ahead. Because if you get this right, if you consciously wipe the mud off your shoes and purposefully choose to tread carefully, you will experience a welcoming transition into your new life together.

Today I want to talk to you both about vision. Because I have seen that the surest way to the oneness you both want is shared vision.

Vision is the thesis, the purpose statement, the framework for who you want to be and how you want to live.

And the best way for two people to walk as one with the least amount of chaffing is to both know where you are going.

But here’s the problem: you both want different things.

Of course you do! Just like every one else I know, just like your dad and I. Wanting different values to be the shaping factor of your vision for the future is normal.  And sometimes, when you each bring those different purposes to the front door trying to fit them in takes some thorough thinking.

You saw this in action while planning your wedding.

Simona, you envisioned elegance and intimacy, a time to relish those who are close to you. You saw your wedding as a suspended moment of beauty, of love expressed in hushed reverence.

Not Matt. He saw a party with every friend, every potential friend, every person who has ever brought delight into his life. He didn’t care so much about beauty or elegance or hush… he wanted fun and dancing— to shout at the top of his joy that he is in love!

And together, with a few tears, a bit of tension, and many long talks, the two of you found a balance of both.

Your wedding was beautiful, elegant, with hushed moments of sacred sweetness.

And your wedding was fun.

John Mark teased his little brother with a hilarity that brought an instant relief to the tension of so much intimate emotion spilling down your faces. We laughed and we cried and we danced in that hopping up and down joy Matt’s D.J. friends played for us.

Now, how to do that for the rest of your lives?

As usual, I have a list:

How Two People Form One Vision From The Dreams Of Both:

1.  Take time deliberately.

You are embarking on a quest to discover what God is envisioning for two people who are now tasked with the daunting process of becoming one.

You’ve been pursuing each other with marriage in mind and now that you’re married you need to keep pursuing each other but with a different end in mind:

Now you’re pursuing each other’s vision for the two of you.

 2.  Ask questions relentlessly.

The hardest part about knowing another’s heart is our self-centered tendency to assume we know more than we do— and the only way I know to learn about another is to ask questions.

Then ask again. Then ask to explain. Again.

Ask in order to discover. Ask in such a way that the other can answer honestly, without having to over-state or justify or defend what may seem silly or impossible.

And remember:

Neither of you want to play the role of cold-water-reality-evaluator of each other’s dreams.

3.  Dream fearlessly.

A dream, for a follower of Jesus, is simply that seedling of desire hidden deep inside, waiting to be cultivated into fruition.

Be slow to squelch those seedlings. Instead, listen, give hope, offer courage and help.

And don’t be too quick to filter one another’s dreams through the lens of your own plans.

God has this delicious way of tantalizing us with just a bite of possibility… and then shaping it through the long wait.

 4.  Pray expectantly.

Dreams don’t just happen because we’ve talked about them.

Dreams become reality when the both of you, together, clasp hands and pray.

… when you trust and hope and work together faithfully.

… when your delight in God, together, becomes bigger than what you hope to do.

… when you open yourselves up to His shaping of your dreams and then get the thrill of partnering, together, with Him in the doing.

That is the way to live— as chasers after God, together!

5.  Listen closely.

Some of us have a hard time articulating our dreams and ideals for the life we hope to live. Strangely, it is often the talkative ones who can’t quite say what they mean. And then it is the quiet listeners who are given an uncanny gift for hearing what the other can’t quite say.

However it works for you, it is your honor to listen both to what the other is saying and what you perceive the other is meaning.

I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve heard a wife clearly state her husband’s mission while he’s looking blank about what to say.

She knows him better than he knows himself and she believes in him and his vision and so she uses her gift to put that vision into words for him.

I love that!

 6.  Write it down purposefully.

Even the prolific Apostle Paul didn’t see his vision clearly. You remember the story- he has a dream of a man gesturing him to come. Scholars call it The Macedonian Call. When he gets to the spot he was supposed to meet this man, he turns out to be a she— a woman by the name of Lydia.

In the male-dominated world Paul lived in, that had to mean disappointment. But he wrote out the whole story and because he did we get to see a pattern of the way God works.

By writing it down you will begin to see the pattern God uses to lead you throughout your lives together.

After 36 years of doing that, your dad and I are no longer surprised or caught unaware of God’s leading. We know the pattern.

7.  Wait patiently.

When we had a dream of starting a church we had to wait 7 years to see it happen. I had a dream of writing my story into a book over 20 years ago and I’m just now finishing it up.

Most dreams take a long time to percolate, to be refined and revised and prepared for and achieved.

That’s normal. It’s the way things work in the kingdom of God’s eternal way. He’s just not in the hurry the rest of us are.

Can I just tell you how much fun it is for me to sit on the sidelines, watching the two of you become one?

Simo, I dreamed of a woman like you for my boy. A woman who would let him be who he is while helping him to be so much more.

Matt, I dreamed of the day when you would launch out with a wife at your side to make your unique mark on the world— together.

From a heart bursting with joy for the adventure I know is ahead for you,

Mom

P.S. Stories anyone? Have you been helped in your vision? Either to articulate it more clearly or to actually go for it? Has your husband or wife taken up your dream and helped? I love this stuff.

(image by Hillary Kupish)

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Those who are wise will find a time and a way to do what is right.

Ecclesiastes 8v5

All week I have been delighting in the rally cry of women wanting what I want— to catch our breath and choose to “to slow down, to do life better… to intentionally take more time to engage.”

And all week I have been hearing about how you’re doing it, this challenge to “refuse to rush through our days leaving our people neglected and our souls depleted.”

And I’ve been taking notes, learning from women who, like me, find themselves rushing relentlessly through their days yet looking back and wondering what in the world we’ve done with those 16 hours of wakefulness.

Then this morning, as I walked along the gravel path that leads to my cabin in the woods behind Firwood Cottage, I had that uncanny sense that God was about to teach me things. Things about doing life well and wisely, about living a no rush life— on purpose.

And He did. 

Because, girls, God speaks. In fact, I have come to see that He delights in speaking into the dailiness of our lives. As if building nations and stopping epidemics and saving people is not enough… He actually waits to be invited to sit next to us as we plan our days.

He says just that in Psalm 37v 23:

“The steps of the godly are directed by the LORD.

He delights in every details of their lives.”

And when I do, when I invite Him in and  “commit everything I do to the LORD, trusting Him” (v 5), He actually gets involved in those details of my life and starts directing my day.

Can you believe that?!

The crazy thing is how often I don’t bother. I don’t bother Him and I don’t bother me long enough to scoot over while I’m making my lists and ask Him what I’m actually supposed to do. Today.

I remember when Matt was just a little boy of about four. John Mark would have been 16 and rarely home, Bekah about 14, and busy with her horse, Elizabeth 11, and living every spare moment at the barn with Bekah.

The first words out of Matt’s mouth every morning were, Where is everybody? Meaning, of course, John Mark, Bekah, Elizabeth, and Dad because those were the people that mattered most to Matt, the ones who held the happiness of his days. What he really wanted to know was not so much where they were but when they were coming home to play with him. Ah, the spoils of being the baby in a big family!

But then, every morning, Matt asked question # 2:

Mom, what’s the plan for today?

And I wonder if that isn’t how the Father wishes we would start our days.

Abba, what’s the plan for this day? 

I think that’s what Jesus did. I think Jesus woke up every morning and asked His father to plan His days, to direct His steps, to manage every moment of His life.

I suspect this may be why Jesus managed to pack everything that needed doing into a life that ended at the age of 33. And why He managed to say, “I have brought You glory on earth by finishing the work You gave me to do.” John 17v4

Everything You gave me to do…

What might that look like for us— women working hard to get it all done, stretched between the tension of tasks and relationships?

How do we do— everyday— those everythings the Father gives us to do?

How do we live a No Rush Life and still be able to utter those three words Jesus said on the Cross:

It is finished.

And about now you’re thinking I’ll have a list. Because I love lists. Because lists are cross-off-able. Because I live my days guided by my list.

Or you’re thinking I’ll offer you— free!— an app or a program or a sure-fire way to live efficiently and effortlessly for just $9.99 per month.

And I might have done that last week. Except that less than a week ago while I was writing the ideas for No Rush November, a woman I know wasn’t feeling well. Just tired and flu-ish and generally not great, she went to the doctor to see what he might prescribe to perk her up. Vitamins? Exercise? Hormones? Something she could take to feel better quickly so she could get on with the rush of real life with kids at home and a business to help run.

Only the doctor didn’t give her vitamins or tell her to move more. Instead, he  admitted her to the hospital with a diagnosis of acute leukemia.

While we do No Rush November, this mother, wife, business partner, home manager, list maker, will spend the next 30 days in the hospital being blasted with radiation.

Who plans for that?

No time to clean her house first. No chance to stock the freezer with meals for her family. Or get her hair cut or do that errand that didn’t get done, or let her clients know that she’ll be out for a while…

And I wonder. Does any of that matter to her now? The list sitting on her desk that won’t get done— does she care? Or is she so enmeshed in the fight to live to see her children grow up that she’s ceased to fret about all the stuff that keeps the rest of us rushing?

Her story is changing the way I look at today. Her fight to live is reminding me that I have no idea what next month will bring. And I’m not writing bucket lists, nor am I pulling out the bucket to wash my windows lest anyone notice how hard they are to see through… instead, I am doing what Jesus did and I invite you to do it too.

For every day of No Rush November, I will ask God to order my days.

I will pray what Moses prayed when he felt overwhelmed by a list too big to accomplish and a job too fraught with interruptions to get enough done:

“ So teach us to number our days

 that we might present to Thee

a heart of wisdom.”

Psalm 90v12

NASB

I will invite the Father to order every day and every week. Then I will ask Him, “what’s the plan?” as I pull out my calendar to look at next month… and next year.

And while I’m praying and planning, I will remember that The Plan is not all about me… but it is all about Him. And so I will pray along the lines of Jesus too:

“… not my will but Yours be done”. Luke 22v42

And that, am convinced, is the way to live an unrushed life.

From my heart,

Diane

P.S. I’ve read your words on Facebook, laughed with you on the @hespeaksinthesilence Instagram, signed deeply at your pictures on #norushnovember. Thank you for those, I am learning from you. Please keep it coming!  And fill up the comments too—we need to learn with each other.

When I asked the Lord what I can do for this woman I barely know, I heard Him again: pray. 

Pray every day. Pray when you wake up at night. Pray one your way to whatever it is you’re rushing off to. Just pray. 

And so I am. I hope you will too, though I’m not sure she’s appreciate her name being blasted all over the internet. You don’t need to know her name to know that she needs us to beseech the Father for healing.

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How To Start Your Story Well

part two

Dear Matt and Simona,

Last week I gave you a peek into the mistakes your dad and I made in our first year of marriage. Nothing fatal, not enough to make us give up, but hurtful mistakes none-the-less; errors in our way of doing our new life together that took a while for us to figure out.

I gave you two pieces of advice, things we wish we’d understood and implemented early on in our marriage. And today I have two more.

1.  Say no to others so that you can say yes to each other.

This is going to be as difficult for both of you as it was for us. Anyone who loves people and values relationship will struggle with sorting through and prioritizing… which in real English means being realistic and disappointing people whose favor you care about.

There is this pervasive message heralded in magazines and conversations and just about everywhere in our culture— that we should be doing more. Work faster, network smarter, connect frequently, know everything… and of course, Just Do It!

What happens in real life with all that over-doing is a weakening of relationships. You only have so much time to go around and so you end up parceling it out in tiny, unsatisfying tidbits.

Here is a better way: sit down together and create a matrix for how you will decide to use your time. I’ll be writing more about this later, but for now just start talking about it— patiently. Look for time wasters. Figure out what “fills your bucket” and what drains you— or who drains you.

Guard yourselves from those time-wasters and soul-drainers. Let your friends know that you cannot say yes without first checking with each other— that’s what married people do—without apology. It’s not confining, it’s fun!

You are now we.

2.  Be patient. With yourselves and with each other.

Resist the temptation to expect perfection—from each other or from yourselves—in all areas of your life:

• Sexually: You’re learning. And there’s a lot to learn! Be patient with the process, enjoy the process! Keep reading, keep trying, keep talking, keep laughing.

(more on this later)

• Time management: It’s a whole other world now of taking each other into consideration as you plan your days. Be patient with each other’s mistakes.

• Conflict: Be persistent in talking to each other about why his not doing what he said he’d do… or how her not being available when you want her… is creating stress. Figure it out. Be nice. Try again.

• Home: This is a whole other area neither of you have had to factor in before. Dorms and roommates are hardly preparation for making a home. Be patient, go easy on each other. Avoid bossiness or criticism and instead work together with a mutual goal of creating a space that is a refuge and delight for both of you.

• Family: You are not the only ones making adjustments. Your families are trying to figure out how best to fold you into their changing dynamic. They may intrude on your space too much, or seem less than happy with you… give them the gift of patience as they struggle through to a satisfying new paradigm.

Talk to them! Be gentle, not rejecting. Let them know you’re both trying to figure it out, that you value them, that you need more time together to forge this new family into something satisfying and right.

(more on this later)

• Emotions: Change of any kind wrecks havoc with moods, feelings, reactions, energy. That’s normal, plan for it. What you want is to learn to recognize that the tension you may be experiencing is not the other’s fault. It is just part of life— the underside of change. And you want to allow each other the luxury of not being “up” and “on” all the time.

Her moodiness does not mean you have failed to make her happy. His crankiness isn’t your fault.

Learning to stay emotionally connected and yet mood-independent takes time… and patience. 

• Communication: This is a challenging one. There is the whole male/female language barrier, as well as completely different family approaches to solving conflict. Add two different personalities, throw in various but not always the same values, and you’ve got some learning to do. Be patient! This one is going to take a lifetime.

You’re going to blow it. You’ll need to apologize—a lot! That doesn’t mean your relationship is fatally flawed, just that it takes a tremendous amount of time to learn to talk and listen and ask questions and respond well. Give each other a lot of grace in this area. Give each other room to grow, room to grow up.

(lots more on this one later!)

A lot to think about, I know. But do the thinking now while life is fresh and your story just started. So much better than looking back with regret at your own blunderings!

I love you both!

From my heart,

Mom

P.S. For those who are reading: Have a good story about any of these areas? Or some practical advice? We’re listening!

And join us on Instagram @hespeaksinthesilence for our #norushnovember challenge as we take some time to slow down and enjoy the little moments this month! 

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Yesterday, I fell apart.

After a whirlwind week… at the end of a whirlwind month… following a whirlwind season, I just caved in.

I couldn’t make decisions, form complete sentences, or remember where I put my phone. Or my sunglasses. Or the boarding pass that would get me on the plane to take me home.

And I know that real life gets busy, that even Jesus worked to the point of exhaustion at times. He was harried by crowds who wanted too much, pushed by men trying to control the uncontrollable. He, too, got tired.

Yet I see a pattern in my own life that cannot be healthy—does not feel like His way:

First, I work way too hard, too fast, too much. My shoulders tense, the clock ticks. I work harder. I wake in the mornings to the press of hurry. I can do it. I will.

And if I’m honest, sometimes I crave the addictive rush of planning and crossing off and getting all that doing done.

But it’s not sustainable. Before I should, before my list is marked all through, I drop. Like a pricked balloon I leak. And then, like every woman I know, I look for someone to blame. I resent the unseen enemy who made me work too hard.

Poor me.

Then, zombie like, I rest by doing nothing. I withdraw into myself. I sleep too long, do too little, hide too deep. All the while feeling guilty and slovenly and shamed.

Even my rest seems too… much.

Yet as I read through the bios of Jesus, those stories recorded by always busy Matthew, and excessively dramatic Mark, precise Dr. Luke, and friend-of-God-John, I cannot help but see that He did life different than I do. There was a steadiness to his rhythm, a calm amidst the chaos.

He didn’t rush.

And so, I propose that we follow in His footsteps.

I propose that for the month of November we refuse to rush through our days leaving our people neglected, our space demolished, and our souls depleted.

I propose that we institute No Rush Novembers into the rhythm of our lives.

And maybe we is just me, but I dare to think that I am not alone in this need to slow down, to do life better… to intentionally take more time to engage.

And so, this morning I have been talking to the Father and asking how to be a woman who embraces life at a pace that allows me to live and love and work and accomplish… from a place of rush-less rest.

Instead of a list of what I will not do, I’ve found a strange urging to make room in my life for doing more… living better, steadier, more bravely.

Here is my list for me, things I am going to do this month on purpose:

I AM GOING TO… walk in the rain.

Living here in the Northwest, it rains a lot. As in nearly every day. Which means that to go outside at all is to get wet.

Most days a mist falls, a gentle leaking from porous skies. But some days the clouds battle unseen forces, lashing rain on the world, throwing branches to the ground in a fierce show of fury.

Those are the days I stay inside, safe, protected— and limited.

Not this month. During No Rush November I am going to walk in that rain and let it soak into my skin, and with it, this truth: that He is Living Water, Master of Storms, Soother of Seas. That to hide is to limit His use of me.

I AM GOING TO… build a fire in the fireplace.

Even though it’s messy. Even though I don’t need to. Even when I don’t have time to clean it up or pick up pieces of pine needles and bark that follow sodden footsteps from the wood pile to the inside.

Because I do have time. Not for perfection, but for rest, for warmth. And I am going to take time to draw near to the fire of a love that is all-consuming.

I AM GOING TO… make a big pot of chili and let it simmer all day.

Hot and red, spicy and rich, I am going to breathe in the scent of home. And then I am going to fill every bowl for friends and family, and a few more besides. To celebrate our not-aloneness. To relish those relationships that chase the chill of loneliness away. To open my arms and my kitchen to souls who hunger with the want of a shared bowl of goodness.

I AM GOING TO… clean out the garage.

You’re laughing now, but hear me out. That garage has been bothering me and shaming me and confusing me and making me feel like life is too busy to live well. Every time I open that door I see chaos. I feel the defeat of disorder.

My messy garage has become symbolic of a life hassled by hurry.

In no great rush I am going to finish sorting through the excess. I will keep only what I use, what I need, giving away the dishes I haven’t used in forever to someone who will.

I will lean into the whisper I heard months ago— to SIMPLIFY FOR THE NEXT SEASON. To actively choose to live with less so that I am useable, available, free.

For this one month I will recalibrate. I will re-think and re-order and remember. I will rest. I will create. I will make room in my life for surprises.

Will you join me?

From my heart,

Diane

Show us how you’re engaging in Now Rush November by taking a picture and posting on Instagram.

Use the hashtag #norushnovember so we can all join in the fun.

And check out our new Instagram account, @hespeaksinthesilence for more ideas on how to live at rest in the midst of real life.

I’d love to read your own ideas in the comments. Let’s keep this conversation going all month!

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How To Start Your Story Well

Part I: Coming Home

Dear Ones,

You’re back from your honeymoon, glowing with that newlywed smugness of two people who have shared what no one else ever will— that look that says you’ve a secret you’re bursting to tell. You have no idea how happy your happiness makes me.

These are good days. Rich with discovery, bright with hope for the future. You’ve found each other, loved each other, sorted through the questions, worked through barriers, and now you’re writing history.

What story will you tell? 

Thirty-six years ago, your dad and I were right where you are: just enough money to pay the bills if nothing went wrong, a pretty little place to call home, family and friends in abundance, and a job at a church that demanded time with a voraciousness that left us with no margin.

And we made mistakes. Lots of mistakes. Our first year was one long, heated hurt feeling on my part… and one long, heated frustration on your dad’s. Though to be fully transparent, in between the hurt feelings and frustrations we managed to cram in a whole lot of passionate, life-giving lovemaking.

And maybe that is why I am writing these letters to the two of you. Because I want more for you. I hope you’ll write a better first chapter to your story than we did. I hope you’ll look back on this year and remember the passion with a minimal amount of frustration and hurt feelings.

To my idealistic surprise, being a good person was not enough to have a good marriage. I tried so hard to be good, and so did your dad. But there was so much we didn’t know then, lessons we’ve learned the hard way. Lessons I want to pass on to you. Today I’ll give you just a few.

How To Start Your Story Well:

1.  Take time

For most of us, that first year of marriage is like learning to navigate a new world while blindfolded. We end up bumping into things. And people. And each other.  All those resultant bruises act as attention getting signs to get us to slow down, to proceed cautiously, to pay attention. Once you’ve learned where the sharp edges are, you’ll be able to breeze through most days without so much as a bump.

I wish we had purposed to take our first year slow. To do less. To expect less.

To just be… with each other… alone.

We should have spent more time paying close attention to each other, making room for the differences that rubbed wrong, allowing space to study each other, to know each other.

I think you will struggle with the same. You both love people, have a gazillion friends, have iPhones that won’t quit buzzing, and more plans that any two people could possibly accomplish.

And that’s good, great, healthy. But can you just put it all on hold for a bit? Expect less of yourselves? Expect less of each other? Just for this first year?

Because paying close attention to each other takes time at first. If you’re not careful you’ll misinterpret each other, take things too personally, get your feelings hurt and your nose pushed out of joint. Or you’ll stumble blindly forward, clueless to the damage your heedlessness is inflicting on the one you love more than life itself.

To that end, I have a second piece of advice…

2.  Check in

When we were first married, many of our misunderstandings happened as a result of un-communiction.

We were up late most nights, a requirement of a pastor at a megachurch in the 70’s. Being busy was proof of value— or so we believed. We’d fall into bed too tired to talk, then be up and out the door for work with barely a chance to think, let alone converse.

We saved most of our communication for our one day off together… and ended up arguing our way through that day, knowing we’d have no time to resolve it during the week, knowing that if we didn’t get the hurt cleaned up now, it would only get worse.

Not exactly a tasty recipe for a healthy relationship.

Out of that failure, we began to see the need for a daily time of connection. Not a long, how are you feeling about life kind of conversation, but just a few moments to go over schedules, know how to pray for each other, look each other in the eye, value each other’s time, and accommodate each other’s reality.

We take each other’s temperatures: Is he stressed about that meeting? Feeling pressured by her to-do list? Should I back off my expectations?

In those few minutes we keep Paul’s advice to his friends in Ephesus in mind:

“I, therefore, the prisoner of the Lord,

entreat you to walk in a manner

worthy of the calling with which you have been called,

with all humility and gentleness, with patience,

showing forbearance to one another in love,

being diligent to preserve the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.”

Ephesians 4:1-3 NASB

I have more to say on this matter of beginning your story well but I think maybe that’s enough to chew on for now.

I hope you will spend some time together this week talking about practical ways to slow down your schedule in order to take the time to know each other, and carve out a time to connect every day so that you’ll work together in this new reality.  It won’t happen by accident. You’ll have to be intentional about starting your story slower and with a greater understanding of each other. But, oh it’s worth it!

I’ll be back next week with part 2 of How To Start Your Story Well.

From my heart,

Mom

P.S. For those who are reading:

Have you figured out how to do this? What rhythm is working for you? Your ideas will help strengthen the relationships of others who are trying to get it right.

(source)

The past month has been, for me, packed full of goodness: family, laughter, beauty, relationship, memories, joy. Firwood cottage opened her arms to embrace people I love: her cozy guest room in constant use, the kitchen a gathering place for ongoing conversation.

Yet one morning, right in the midst of wedding week fun, I made my way out to my tiny refuge in the backyard, that “shed” I claim as my own, and wondered why I hadn’t heard so much as a whisper from God in all the raucous clamor of celebration.

Why are You silent, Lord? Why can’t I hear?

And slowly, imperceptibly at first, I heard hints. I sensed the Spirit stirring me to lean in, to listen, to pay attention.

Opening my bible, I curled up in my big cushy chair, pen in hand, journal in my lap. I settled in to wait.

What would He say? Something encouraging and lovely? Quotable and profound?

No. Just this:

Though the LORD is great,

He cares for the humble,

but He keeps His distance from the proud.

He keeps His distance from the proud. Me? Are You talking about me, Lord?

And I knew before I asked that yes, my pride had pushed Him away. The distance I had suddenly sensed that morning had been growing for days, for weeks. Unrecognized, unrepented pride had worked its weasely way into my soul and now I felt the loneliness of that distance I had created.

My pride propels me into loneliness, pushing God aside, pushing my self forward until all I am is me.

And I hear Him speak, this time so fast I can hardly keep up while I write it down. He wants me back, tucked in close, reveling in the intimacy of connection, enjoying this time of my life with Him.

He knows I hadn’t noticed the emptiness of that place only He can fill. But I notice now and He fills me fast, He fills me full, I am bursting with the richness, all those aching places soothed.

But I don’t want to go there again. Because I didn’t mean to, didn’t even know I was wandering in that direction. Somehow I drove off on the wrong road and ended up with only a hint of God in my rearview mirror. What did I miss?

As I ask Him, a list forms in my head and my pen scrambles on the page to get it down. Too much for one post, I’ll give the first four here:

Subtle Signs When Pride Is Distancing Me From God:

1.    Self-sufficiency

When instead of praying about everything, I blunder through my days “accomplishing what concerns me”. I do it because it needs doing. My list leads.

I can do this. I can work harder and longer and better. I can get it all done!

That is pride disguised in the rigid uniform of work.

2.    Worth

When my achievements define my value; when I am what I do or I am what I have done or I am what people think I am.

When my value is caught up in my ability to do, that is pride.

3.   Insecurity

This is the reverse: When my failure defines me and I think I am merely the sum total of everything wrong with me. That is pride. It is making too much of my efforts, measly though they are, and making too little of God in me.

4.    Entitlement

When life goes bad and I get mad because I think I deserve better.

No, it is not okay to get angry with God! Who do I think I am? When I think I deserve more, deserve to be shielded from ugliness, deserve to be blessed just because I’ve been good, that is pride.

My list keeps growing, a living breathing knowing that this distance is my own doing. But there is joy in this knowing- because He welcomes me back, delights in my turning, soothes the rawness of my repentance. He doesn’t want to stand away from me. My Redeemer died to bring me close… to bridge that yawning fissure my pride opened between me and the One who made me for Himself.

I’ll be back with more to chew on next week.

From my heart,

Diane

P.S. Do you have a list of your own? Have you seen the subtle signs that keep you distant from God and wondering why? Let us learn from your stories, its so much better than failing in our own.

(Image by Hillary Kupish)

UNASHAMED

And the man and his wife

were both naked and

not

ashamed. 

Genesis 2:25

niv

Dear Daughter,

One of my favorite things to watch is a woman freshly home from her honeymoon. A transformation takes place in that week of intimacy, a metamorphosis. She stands before her husband in all the glory of her wedding finery, sees her beauty reflected in his face, gives herself with purest abandon to his love, and emerges someone else entirely.

Gorgeous.

There is a swagger to her step, a sort of flirtatious look of confidence, a knowing. As if she’s got a secret just bursting to be divuldged.

She belongs. She is known. She is cherished. She is loved.

Simo, hang on to that. Because that is truth— he loves you, he cherishes you, he is captured, intrigued, irresistibly drawn to your beauty.

But there is an enemy who would convince you otherwise. A sneaky serpent who uses subtle strategies to steal the freedom of a well-loved woman. One who knows that a woman who dances in the reflection of her husband’s love is a dire threat to an enemy hell-bent on destroying beauty.

It started long ago. On that fateful day when Eve shared the forbidden fruit with Adam, shame was born. A new emotion, powerful enough to send her into hiding.

…then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves. Genesis 3:7

… and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid… Genesis 3:10

And every woman since has felt those cords of shame tighten around her freedom. Call it inhibition. Call it embarrassment. Disinterest, angst, or ambivalence.

We blame the beauty industry— an easy scapegoat with it's distorted images of haughty, airbrushed, photo-shopped fakery.

Or we blame men— we’re sure they’ve elevated a certain standard of gorgeousness that is unobtainable by the average woman, or at least by ourselves.

We look in the mirror and see everything wrong:

Not thin enough, not curved enough, not firm enough, not soft enough…

Too big, too small, too tall, too curly, too straight, too much, too little…

And those cords of shame wrap tentacles so tight we can scarcely breathe, let alone glory in our own bodies or relish the response of a husband who loves us.

And in our shame, we hide. 

But Simo, it’s all a trick. A lie. A strategy to destroy what God said was good.

Give into this lie and you’ll live a life of less-than. You’ll struggle and wonder why, you and Matt will misunderstand each other. You’ll hurt. You’ll pull away, so will he. You’ll miss out on the wonder of being that woman who knows she is pursued, sought, cherished.

Beautiful.

And so, since I love lists, here is one for you, dear one. A way to combat the lies that would bind your beauty with cords of shame.

How To Be The Beauty You Were Created To Be:

1.  Believe that God crafted you beautifully.

He used His artistry to weave you together in your mother’s womb in just the way He wanted. Dare you honestly say you think He messed up? That He made one woman more lovely than another? That somehow He wasn’t quite on the job when He made you?

2.  Acknowledge that beauty is not perfection. 

Authentic art includes contrast and proportion, texture and shading. An artist chooses from a wide variety of medium to tell a uniquely compelling story. Copy-cats are considered fakes in the world of valuable treasures.

When women determine to fit themselves into a mold of someone else’s making they only hurt themselves.

3.  See your beauty through your husband’s eyes.

When you uncover yourself to him and he responds with enthusiastic arousal, he is adding an exclamation mark to your beauty.

Drink it in. Let the truth of his response sink deep. He sees your beauty.

Choose to neither hide nor deny what you see reflected in his eyes.

Allow yourself the luxury of responding to his response.

4.  Never compare your beauty to another’s.

It doesn’t work that way, anymore than comparing a Rothko to a Rembrandt. Relish your uniqueness, flaunt it, be who you are. Like who you are.

5.  Give your beauty freely to your husband. 

He needs to see you, to feel your skin, to run his hands over your softness. To hide from him is to rob him of the one of the greatest joys of marriage. He loves what he sees, let him feast his eyes on your loveliness.

And not just now, when you’re young and lithe and tan and wedding-day slim. He needs to see you when you’re 9 months pregnant, and 4 months post-partum, when you’re wrinkling and aging, when you’re surely no candidate for a beauty contest.

Because He sees what you cannot— that you are beautiful by being who you are.

6.  Guard your beauty. 

Like a lovely garden of the finest flowers, a woman’s beauty must be cultivated and maintained. Neglected, we go to seed. Nourished, pampered, smoothed, and cared for, we flourish.

My dear daughter, to be naked and not ashamed in the presence of your husband is to enjoy a place in which freedom and beauty reign. Do all you can to stay in that holy place, to guard your heart against the lies that slip in unnoticed.

From my heart,

Mom

P.S. For those who are reading:

Men, are you getting a glimpse into the soul of a woman with these insights? Pay attention, the woman you love is struggling to see her own beauty.

Women, is this new to you? Have you bought into the lies? Can you share your stories and strategies with us? 

(source)

Reaching back into my journal from my summer of silence…  

WORK or PLAY? 

Yesterday I cleaned the garage.  It was a hot, dusty, spider-filled day.

And, as it was my long procrastinated attempt at sorting through my too-much stuff again, I was fairly overwhelmed with decision-making.  I’ve struggled and failed to find a matrix that works for sorting through 36 years worth of accumulation. Throw in a few childhood memories and I’m sunk.

By the time I came inside to de-cobweb my hair and wash off the sweat of a hard summer day’s work, my little cottage was filled with all manner of pretty things stacked in haphazard disarray. My grandmother’s china overflowed a table in the hallway, vintage creamware cluttered the kitchen counter, boxes and boxes of books awaited my attention.

Isn’t that just the way of life? One mess leads to another until cleaning up messes overrides the best of plans… and I think that maxim applies to relationships as much as to garage cleaning…

So when I woke up early this morning with a rare day alone on the agenda I was torn. Should I spend the day studying for that Pastor’s Conference I am speaking at in Uganda? Or… should I play house with all my pretty things and spend my day creating beauty?

I did neither.

Instead I picked up a catalogue and feasted guiltily on pictures of cozy rooms and elegant arrangements. Between sips of steaming tea, I glanced at my Bible and tried to ignore that insistent sense that I really ought to first listen to the One I’ve given my life to.

I wanted to decorate all day… but I was certain that He would tell me to get to work. And so I stalled and sipped tea and wondered where to put what, feeling like a naughty girl ignoring her chore list as if I was ten years old again. Memories of sneaking a few pages of my Nancy Drew mystery instead of dusting my room came flooding back.

Guilt, guilt, guilt.

Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I tossed the magazine aside and picked up my Bible. How can I call Jesus my Lord and ignore Him as I ready for my day?  With a sigh I opened to where I’d left off the day before, ready to listen yet secretly wishing for the freedom to do what I wanted.

What I read… and heard, made me fall in love with my Father all over again. Because He’s not who I seem to consistently think He is: He’s not a taskmaster cracking the whip or a teacher clucking His tongue at my flakiness. He is not waiting for me to open my Bible so He can show me my chore list.

Yes, I listen for instruction. Of course He often corrects me. And sometimes He calls me to deny what I want to do in order to accomplish what I am called to complete. But that’s not the whole picture, not even close.

Here is where my morning reading took me:

“Do not let your hearts be troubled.

You believe in God; believe also in me.

My Father’s house has many rooms:

if that were not so would I have told you

I am going there to prepare a place for you?

And if I go and prepare a place for you,

I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.”

John 14:1-3

I could fairly feel the brush of His Spirit against my soul as I breathed in His truth— He’s not mad at me for wanting to decorate my little cottage on Firwood Road!  In fact, He is spending His holy hours doing the same— preparing a place for me, a place where we can relish intimacy, a place of rest, a place of untangling troubled hearts caught up in self-imposed pressures.

His love wafted over my stringent should’s like the fragrant candle burning on my bedside table. I breathed deep— and smiled.

And so, this morning, before I get up and putter about arranging my pretty things, I want to remind you what I am just now remembering for myself. Because some of us get it wrong sometimes… and we lose peace… we miss His joy and stagger under a load He hasn’t meant for us to carry.  And then we work too hard and feel guilty because we’re crabby and short-tempered and generally hard to live with. (yep, that is me confessing who I’ve been this last week!)

This, then is truth:

Jesus is… a Redeemer lovingly restoring a broken world back to Himself.

He is… a Creator inviting you to play along with Him.

He is… a Maker of Beauty.

From a heart delighting in who He is,

Diane

P.S. Are you like me? Do you impose rigid rules on yourself that actually aren’t from the Father? Can you name a few to help us recognize them in ourselves?

 (image by Hillary)

Naked

And the man and his wife were both

Naked

and unashamed.

Genesis 2:25

Dear Son,

The most invaluable, unforgettable, intimate gift a woman can give a man is her body. To unveil herself, to strip away her coverings, to allow the man she loves to see her as she is— this is an act of intimate trust.

When Adam first saw Eve standing naked before him, he broke out in a song of endearing enthusiasm:

This…

is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh!

she shall be called woman

for she was taken out of man.

Genesis 2:23

niv

He was enthralled with this one who was so like him… and so intriguingly different. He loved her, he wanted her, he responded to her beauty.

When your wife reveals herself to you… for the first time, for the second, and for the thousandth time, she will be asking a question. Always. No, she won’t write it down. She won’t ask it out loud. She might not even realize what she’s asking. But somewhere deep inside, her soul is crying out,

Am I beautiful?

And you, my dear son, have the power to answer that question in a way that will be forever inked on the skin of her soul.

Answer well… and you will be propelled into a lifetime of unparalleled passion. Of beauty. Of love.

Hesitate…or evaluate… or send any sort of signal of not enough-ness… and you will miss out on the greatest treasure a woman has to give— herself.

And so, my son, I have a list. This is my list for men who want to experience the thrill of a wife who gives herself to him with abandon, with such confidence in her own appeal that she bathes her husband in her beauty.

How To Make A Woman Beautiful:

1.  Tell her she’s beautiful.

Tell her every day. Every. Single. Day. When she’s sweaty from working out, when she’s sleepy and unadorned, when she’s got a pimple on her nose, and when she’s seducing you in the glow of candlelight. Tell her that you see her beauty, get specific, be prolific.

2.  Show her she’s beautiful.

Let your face express your awe. Don’t be covert- that was fine for dating days but now that she’s fully yours she needs you to be fully aware. Look at her. Follow her with your eyes. Let her catch you looking. She needs to know that her beauty excites you.

3.  Remember she’s beautiful.

In the everyday-ness of life, it is easy to forget about beauty. There is work to be done, bills to pay, conflicts to work through. But you have the power to remind yourself that your wife is a treasured gift of beauty from God. Be purposeful about remembering.

4.  Remind her she’s beautiful.

Do not allow your wife to swallow the lie that she is not beautiful. Ever. Use all your man-like warrior skills to combat Satan’s deceptive ploy to steal your wife’s beauty. She may never model for a glossy magazine but she is hand-crafted by God to mirror His beauty in a way that only she can. Your job is to show her. To tell her. To remind her. To insist that she see her own beauty the way you do.

5.  Let her stay beautiful.

Beauty in the mirror costs bucks in the wallet. It pains me to hear men complain about the cost of make-up and hair cuts and all those shoes that crowd a woman’s closet… and then to secretly wish their wife looked better. All that effort a woman makes into being as attractive as possible is for you—really!

Do not begrudge her the joy of adorning herself with girly beauty. Budget for it. Sacrifice for it. She will repay you with the swaggering confidence of a feel-good-about-herself woman.

6.  Thank her for being beautiful.

No woman stays beautiful without effort. It takes time, discipline, self-denial, money, creativity, and determination. When your wife takes the time to clean herself up, to spray on some scented loveliness, to coax her feet into high heels and in any way bring her beauty to your attention, let her know you love it. Leave off with that male bluster that makes it sound like you don’t care— because you do care about her beauty and so does she.

7.  Tell others she’s beautiful.

There is something about being praised in public that means more to a woman than most men realize. Loosen those barriers that hold you back from saying it— in front of her friends and yours, in the presence of men and women, do the unorthodox— tell the world that you find your wife incredibly, classically, intrinsically beautiful.

8.  Thank God for her beauty.

The surest way to keep on seeing her beauty even when wrinkles line her face, babies distort her body, and age greys her hair, is to thank God every day that He entrusted you with this beauty. She is a gift. Her beauty is a gift. Make it your habit to thank God for her, to bless Him for the blessing her beauty brings into your life.

When I walked into the hospital room of my friend, Isabel Moore, who lay dying at the age of 92, I was struck by her stunning beauty.  Her normally coifed hair was brushed back from her face, no make-up covered her wrinkled skin, her stylish clothes had been exchanged for a hospital gown. Yet she glowed.

As her friends and family took their turns to whisper good-bye, she took each person by the hand and pulled them close…  spilling one last dose of beauty onto each of us.

I walked out of her room knowing I had experienced beauty in its truest form. I saw a woman whose beauty had, over months and years and decades, been nurtured and magnified, loved and celebrated. With the insistence of her husband, Tom, over a span of 69 years, Isabel’s beauty had made it’s way from her skin, down deep into her soul. She knew her own beauty intimately— and that knowing compelled her to give it away.

Make that your goal, Matt. To find and notice and cultivate Simona’s God-created beauty. When she’s 22, when she’s 52, when she’s 92.

And then watch as she spills that beauty back onto every one who touches her life, and especially on you.

From my heart,

Mom

P.S. For those who are reading:

Girls, can you chime in? Has your husband/ friend/ boyfriend/ fiancé helped you to see your unique beauty? How?

Men, do you need help with this? I know it’s not easy, but I also know that a man’s courage can be daunting when he’s on the warpath to protect someone he loves. I applaud you for trying t

(image by Hillary Kupish)

INTENT: goal, purpose, design, plan, aim

Dear Matt and Simona,

You’re married!

After months of planning and preparations, endless lists and endless work, the wedding is over. The two of you stood before friends and family, before God Himself, and said, “I Do.”

The wonder of your wedding day is still sending ripples of delight in my mind, memories I will cherish for a long, long while.

Simona, your elegance cast a magical beauty over the entire day. Matt, your laughter lit the night with joy. Could your grin have gotten any bigger?

We waved you off with our blessing and our prayers. And then your dad and I turned to each other, grasped hands, and prayed. We asked God to fill your night with the joy of discovery. To fill your hearts with confidence. To fill your minds with pictures of beauty. To fill your honeymoon with memories you will both relish forever.

And we prayed that you would both remember what we’ve told you:

That the purpose of your honeymoon is to know and be known. It is the beginning of a lifetime quest for two people to so understand each other that they begin to think as one. To meld bodies and lives and hopes and dreams into an unbreakable bond of wholeness.

To become one.

And to that end, it is a set apart time.  This is not simply a vacation. Not just an expensive adventure.  If you get a little sightseeing in on the side, great! But you’ll have lots of vacations and only one honeymoon.

Your honeymoon is a time for the unveiling of yourselves to each other. For undressing, and uncovering.  It is a long anticipated choosing to be “naked and unashamed”.  To be before each other just as you are, without masks or covering.

You have both waited for this— have guarded yourselves and each other in anticipation of a lifetime of unrestricted passion. You love each other. You want each other. You have waited for intimacy on the promise that this gift is best unwrapped under the covenant of forever.

Forever begins now.

But a great honeymoon doesn’t happen by accident. Like most things of high value, you will have to be intentional about this time. You will not want to squander the potential of this beginning.  And so I have put together a short list of ways to purposely create an environment in which you will both thrive. A list of guidelines in order to intentionally write your history well.

Six Guidelines For A Great Honeymoon:

1.  Guard these days

That may mean you’ll need to turn off your phones. Do not return texts. Don’t like anybody’s pictures or messages or requests. Instead, turn all your attention to each other. Too soon you’ll be stressed by the tensions of all the other demands on your time. Now is the time just for one another.

2.  Give yourself completely

It takes a tremendous amount of trust to unveil your real selves to another person. To not pretend. But those who do will have the reward of a love that is real.

Two cannot become one if there is hiddenness.

This is the time to tell each other what hurts deeply, what gives you courage, why you fell in love and what you hope the years ahead will hold.

And it is a time to be all about the other. To coax and allure each other into a safe place.

3.  Laugh a lot

Instead of taking yourselves too seriously, allow room for hilarity. Sex is fun! Sure, the timing can be complicated, but learning is the best part. Be gentle with each other, be friendly and affectionate, don’t try too hard to imitate the movies- sex just isn’t always so hot and instant, especially at the beginning. Have a blast learning to get it right.

Then bask in the rush of emotions that will have your redefining the word happiness.

4.  Affirm each other frequently

You both need to hear the unedited pleasure of each other. Don’t hold back, say it, show it, tell each other what makes you feel like you’re coming out of your skin with the joy of it. And then say it again.

Please, please, please do not allow even one discouraging word to shadow your intimacy. If you have a mean moment, apologize immediately.

This is a sacred time, honor that.

4.  Spend time alone with God each day

As absorbed as you are with each other, you’ll be in danger of imposing too much need on each other unless you each spend time alone with the One who is your “life that is truly life.” Honor each other’s individual-ness by giving each other space to be alone with God. Then come together and share what He’s telling you. This is the way to greatest intimacy.

And one last word of advice:

6.  Have Fun!

Flirt, rest, jest, tease, talk, sleep, eat, indulge, play! Be lazy. Relish beauty. Find gifts for each other. Write notes. Tell stories. Crack jokes. Swim in the ocean, splash in puddles. Saturate all your senses with the pure joy life.

My dear son and daughter, take these days as the gift that they are. You are free, you are healthy, you have plenty, you are loved.

With much love and hope for the two of you,

Mom

P.S. For those who are reading: Do you have anything to add? Or any questions to ask?

Let’s start a conversation for a few weeks on what you hope, what you wish, what you’d do different in order to intentionally write the story of your first days as husband and wife.

(source)

Wedding Week has come and gone.

All that remains of months of work are the pictures of a day so filled with beauty, so packed with goodness, so overflowing with love that a sort of mystical halo will forever surround the memories.

I thought I’d share with you some of my favorites:

(photos by my friend Jodi Stilp)

Simona’s mom, Natalia. She radiated joy, peace, serenity, knowing, wisdom, gentleness. She is the softest strong woman I know. A woman who stays in the background serving. A woman who loves with the fierceness of one who has known pain and chosen to embrace grace rather allowing herself to be distorted by bitterness.

(photos by my friend Jodi Stilp)

Scarlet’s march down the aisle way ahead of the other flower girls who were dutifully following instructions to sprinkle rose petals along the way. That look of sheer determination, along with her cousin, Sunday’s look of chagrin (she was supposed to be Scarlet’s keeper, but who can “keep” a girl with that kind of moxy?) started me laughing and set the tone for the entire wedding.

(photos by my friend Jodi Stilp)

John Mark’s little brother jokes. All the formal, Romanian loveliness of the day combined with the hilarity of my preacher-son’s memories of his little brother’s antics had our family laughing out loud and elbowing each other right up to the vows.

(photos by my friend Jodi Stilp)

Matthew’s tears. Gosh…

(photos by my friend Jodi Stilp)

Simona’s vows, which included: “You are my Hans Solo…” slipped in between profound words of commitment and honor. I don’t think she could have said anything that would have cemented Matt’s love for her more. Wise woman, my girl!

(photos by my friend Jodi Stilp)

My dad. Thirty-six years ago he walked me down the aisle, this time I escorted him. Slow, careful, loving the moment and hanging on to some of these last times together. How I wish every girl had a dad like mine.

The dancing. Which was really more of a bunch of grown up children bouncing, laughing, shouting, reveling in shared joy. So wholesome and good. Fun.

(photos by my friend Jodi Stilp)

Rebekah and Steve, John Mark and Tammy, Jude, Moses, Sunday, Brook and Elizabeth, Scarlet, Duke, Phil, me and Simona's whole family… surrounding Matt and Simona with our love and prayer and teasing and support and advice and commitment to be a family. This is the kind of community we are made for, the kind we are called to bring to the church and to the world. Imperfect but faithful.

And I feel a little bit of what God felt all those millennium ago… when He rested… and saw that it was good.

Not perfect, but good. Very good.

From a heart at rest,

Diane

(image by hillary kupish)

Our house is a very, very, very fine house

With two cats in the yard,

Life used to be so hard,

Now everything is easy cause of you…

I’ll light the fire,

You place the flowers in the vase that you bought today.[1]

(still my favorite love song…)

 Dear Matt and Simona,

Saturday was your wedding day. A beautiful, romantic day you have both dreamed of for many months. Today the two of you are flying across oceans and mountains, glaciers and jungles… to a place just for the two of you. Alone.

And I sit here in my tiny cottage in the woods trying to condense all that I want to say into these few words on a screen. I type and I delete. I walk around the block and think of too many things I want to say. I try again.

And there is only this:

A love that lasts a lifetime doesn’t happen by accident.

It is not a romantic ending to a good story. It is not in the stars, not because you found the One. The kind of love you hope for isn’t because of good luck or good personalities or good timing. It does not wear out or go away. No one falls out of this kind of love.

A love that lasts a lifetime is a love that is lived on purpose.

It is a love that is gone after. A love that is done daily. A love that is thought about, sacrificed for, worked towards.

Even on bad days. Especially on bad days.

Yes, love is a gift. But perhaps more, real love, the kind of love that all of us long for, is a skill. A vocation. A calling.

And that is why I am writing these letters. Because I dare to believe that this is a kind of love that is possible. I believe that you two and anyone else can have a love that lasts for a lifetime. I believe that any of us— all of us— can become excellent lovers.

And more, I believe we are called to do this kind of love.

Everyday.

For the rest of forever.

That is what these letters will be about. The doing of real love. The craft, the skill, the expertise it takes to navigate real life and cultivate true love. I want to pass on what I am learning about how to “walk in the way of love” (Ephesians 5:2) so that when you are both old… with all the inherent greying and sagging and wrinkling and slowing that old age brings… you will still be in love.

Because I believe it’s possible, this whole-life love. Maybe not normal, but possible. And I don’t believe it has much to do with luck, though no doubt about it, some people have an easier time at it than others. And though I may have started off life as a dreamer, a romantic, a head-in-the-clouds innocent… I now have three plus decades of church ministry under my belt and all the inherent sad, tragic, disgusting, horrifying real-life-marriage stories to off-set my fairy tale take on life.

And I believe more than ever in the theory of redemption:  that our God is a fixer of broken things. That your mess-ups and mistakes do not define you.

Nor is all that messiness a predilection for future failure. I read it in God’s Word and I see it in real life.

I have seen people tuck their broken, repentant, honest selves right into Jesus. I have seen Him exchange their sorry state with His glory, with His beauty. I have seen—close up—two people collide and fall on their faces and call out to God. I have seen the beauty He brings out of the ashes of fire-ravaged lives. How He melds two people into one.

And I am one of those: broken, selfish, spoiled, self-indulgent, and… redeemed. And so is your dad. You know that.

God doesn’t automatically make repentant, dependent people good, instead He fills them with God. With Himself. And then He slowly begins that painstaking process of smoothing off the ugliness. Something like the way He used glaciers to craft great swaths of smooth tundra, so slowly the movement is almost imperceptible.

The key, I have come to see, is patience. Patience with each other first, but also patience with yourself. We learn to love well. God Himself trains us in the way of love. Scripture is filled with wisdom to get us started and then to stretch us further until His way becomes, if not natural, at least a whole lot easier.

So, before the letters even officially begin, let me leave you with just a couple of things to tuck away.

1. A love that lasts a lifetime is possible.
2. A love that lasts a lifetime is not natural or easy or automatic.
3. A love that lasts a lifetime requires the humility of daily brokenness before God.
4. A love that lasts a lifetime involves skills that can be learned.
5. A love that lasts a lifetime takes a lifetime.

And this...

A love that lasts a lifetime is worth it.

From my heart,

Mom

P.S. While I am writing these letters to my son and new daughter, they have agreed to let you read along. What I am hoping, is that you will bring your stories and wisdom and questions and comments with you. I get tired of talking all by myself. So please, let the conversation begin.

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[1] Published and recorded in 1970, by Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young. I’ve been whistling this one under my breathe for longer than you’ve been alive!